Being awakened by a ringing phone before eight in the morning was not Greg’s idea of the leisurely Sunday lie-in he had hoped to have; but the melodious chuckle that greeted his rather surly “Hello” immediately dispelled his initial mood. It was Sarah.
“Hi Greg – sorry to be ringing a bit early. I hope you’re not feeling too worn out.”
“No, Sarah, I had a lovely time, and I’m still enjoying the memories.”
“I enjoyed it too, darling. But you left something behind, didn’t you?”
“Yes, my briefcase. I was going to ring Andrea and ask if I could come over and collect it. I’ll need it tomorrow. More to the point, I’ll need what’s in it.”
“That’s what we were a bit concerned about. The thing is, you wouldn’t find Andy at home today. I’ve just seen her off at the airport. She’s flying to Auckland – it’s her big sister’s birthday. The big Six-Oh, you know – big family get-together ’n’ all that.”
“I see… so…”
“So she’s entrusted me with the mission of getting it back to you.”
“Sarah, that’s so kind of you.”
“Not at all. But I need to know your address.”
He gave it to her. “When were you thinking of coming over?”
“Well, sweetie, how about as soon as I can get there from the airport – that’s where I am right now.”
About thirty minutes. “The thing is, I’m still in bed…”
“No problem. I have Andy’s permission to join you there – if you’d like, that is…”
“Wow…”
“…not that I need her permission, of course, but it’s nice to know she wouldn’t mind, isn’t it?”
“Yeah… great… awesome… I’d love that.”
“Okay, then, see you soon, darling. Byeee…!” He heard the sound of her mouthing a kiss, then a click as she broke the connection.
He lay for several long minutes in an incredulous daze, absorbing the impact of this conversation. He hadn’t ever had so much sex in such a short time, and the prospect of yet more was almost too much to believe. He stretched his naked limbs in pleasurable anticipation, then got out of bed to shower, shave, brew coffee and snatch a quick breakfast, reflecting that if the impending sex with Sarah was anything like yesterday’s, he’d need some prior sustenance.
He had just finished brushing his teeth and sweetening his mouth with mouthwash when the doorbell rang.
And there she stood: a breathtaking picture of summery loveliness, in a low-cut primrose-coloured blouse and a short, hip-hugging denim skirt, with the same straw hat atop her curls that she had worn yesterday. Putting down his briefcase and her purse she surrendered warmly to his embrace and turned her face up to be kissed on those bewitching lips.
It was a long kiss. Not intense, rather a leisurely enjoyment of each other, hands wandering gently rather than urgently questing, tongues swirling slowly in overlapping circles. She gave a quietly contented “Mmm” when he slid his hands under her blouse to savour the soft brushing of her skin against his palms and fingers, and she started to turn her body from side to side in his arms so that her felt the soft swell of her breasts moving this way and that against his torso.
“Have you had any breakfast?” Greg enquired as they at last broke the embrace.
“Yes. Andy and I got to the airport early and had breakfast there. But that coffee smells good – got any left?”
There was still plenty in the big plunger that had been a present from a past girlfriend, and they sipped facing each other in companionable silence at the small kitchen table, Greg digesting the implication of what Sarah had said: that she and Andy must have spent the night together.
Presently Sarah said: “I don’t know about you, but in hindsight I can’t help feeling that yesterday was a bit” – she paused as if searching for a word – “perhaps a bit rushed.” She paused, her head cocked reflectively, then went on: “I mean, I do sometimes like sex to be urgent and wild like that; but I think I prefer first-time sex to be, well, a bit more – leisurely and exploratory, if you know what I mean…”
Greg nodded. “Mmm… More enjoying the journey rather than hastening to get there?”
Her face lit up, her answering nod was vigorously affirmative, and she laid a firm hand on his left arm. “Absolutely. Most women get that, but not so many men. I’m so glad you do. Are we going to be able to spend more time together today, Greg? I do hope so.”
He nodded again. “I’ve got no plans for today…”
“Good,” she said quietly but firmly, setting her coffee mug down on the table. “Now get that bathrobe off, undress me and take me to your bed, please.”
She remained seated on her chair, moving to help him remove garment by garment, sighing and mewing softly with pleasure as he kissed and caressed each area of uncovered skin.
“Mmm, I love the way you’re touching me,” she murmured presently.
“How?”
“Just exploring and enjoying the feel of me. Not trying to push sensory buttons or flick switches to make me feel this or that. Just savouring me. Even when you were stroking my nipples after taking off my bra… Sure it felt lovely, but I could feel you enjoying the feeling of caressing me, not just doing it to trigger erotic sensations. In an indirect way it’s a big turn-on, having someone enjoy me like – ooh, oh god, yesss!…”
He was kneeling between her thighs and his mouth had been laying a salivary trail upwards from just above her still-unparted labia, when the tip of his tongue reached her navel and teased it, A sudden tremor ran through her and she seized his head, pressing his face into her belly, gripping him with her thighs. Almost immediately she relaxed again and he looked up at her questioningly.
“You’ve discovered one of my secret hot spots. No, don’t do it again just yet – it doesn’t work every time… but believe it or not you made my clit twitch just then. It really is time you took me to bed.”
He took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. She clapped her hands at the sight of the king-sized bed before gleefully depositing herself in the middle of it, holding her arms out beckoningly. “Cuddle me, please,” she purred.
Greg lay down beside her, turning towards her onto his left side. She turned towards him and stretched her body out full-length against his, pillowing her head on his arm, offering him her parted lips and sensuously flickering tongue. As they kissed, she turned her body sinuously this way and that, so that her skin brushed against his, her erect nipples against his chest, her mound against his cock, sending sparks of sensation showering through his nervous system. He ruffled her curls with his right hand, then gently massaged her scalp with his fingertips. She gave a sudden shudder and a cry that sounded almost like a convulsive cough.
“Another hot spot?”
“Oh yes – oh I love that. Mmm, please go on… ahhh… ooohhh…” Her stomach and buttock muscles were clenching spasmodically, thrusting her mound forward with each small convulsion. “Oh, that’s enough now, stop, I can’t take it any more… aaahhh…” She relaxed with a long sigh of contentment.
“Did you cum just then?”
“No, not really. I just had a… dunno what you’d call it. I suppose you could say it was a little baby orgasm. A mini-cum, a climax-ette. You really are finding my hot spots today, aren’t you? Let me warn you, this could end in fireworks if you’re not careful.” She gave his neck a nip with her teeth.
He let his hand slide from the back of her head down to her neck and shoulders, massaging lightly with fingers and thumb, then trailed his fingertips from the nape of her neck down her spine to the cleft between her buttocks. She sighed and rotated her hips, her mound rubbing his erect cock and squeezing it between their bodies. He kneaded her buttocks, delighting in their round, firm softness, then let his hand travel further down to the space between the tops of her thighs. She gave a low, guttural moan that was almost a growl, then raised her left thigh to give him easier access from behind, resting her knee on his hip.
With ease he found her warm, wanting wetness and from behind slid first two, then three, then four fingers into it, then lastly the tip of his thumb. She responded with a full-throated groan, arching her spine and pushing back against his hand. He withdrew his thumb, its tip now dripping with her juice, and lightly touched the sensitive spot between vulva and anus.
She thrust her bottom back with even greater vigour. “Aaahhh, yessss, put it in there!” He pressed gently, felt her tight little bud relax and open, letting his thumb slide gently in up to the knuckle and then clenching tight again. “More!” she moaned, and he felt her sphincter relax again, admitting the full length of his thumb. He bent his thumb slightly, at the same time pressing gently with his fingers against the floor of her vagina, then experimentally slid his entire hand half way out and then back in again.
“Oh god, go on doing that…gently, but…oh yes, like that…keep on like that, just like that…oh yes, oh fuck, faster, oh god, oh shit, oh fuck, oh please don’t stop…” She was thrusting back rhythmically now against the movements of his hand, grunting energetically with each thrust, her hands kneading her breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples. Then a sudden violent convulsion shook her like a rag doll, followed a few seconds later by another, then another, each punctuated by a strangled shriek – then a rapid succession of spasms was accompanied by a continuous keening wail that rose to a peak and then subsided into sobbing breaths as she gulped for air.
Greg gingerly withdrew his hand and held her close. Presently she rolled on top of him, straddling his legs, juice still dripping out of her. She took hold of his cock with both hands, squeezing, stroking and teasing it into rock-hardness before bending to engulf it lovingly in her mouth – taking it so far in that it must have reached the back of her throat, but never gagging once. The thought flashed through his head: this woman is a fucking expert…
She raised her head and surveyed his shaft admiringly. “Thank you, Andy, for finding this – and for being willing to share!” Then she took it back into her mouth and began a sucking, licking action that sent waves of pleasure pulsing through him from head to toe, cooing and mmm-ing with delight as she gradually intensified her ministrations, pausing to savour his pre-cum, then continuing, until she stopped just short of bringing him to an orgasmic eruption. “Not yet awhile, laddie,” she chuckled, her eyes gleaming mischievously.
She re-positioned herself and eased the head of his cock slowly between her labia, then gradually lowered herself onto him, taking his shaft in more and more deeply until he felt the head make contact with her cervix. She stopped moving again, and instead squeezed his cock gently several times in the gentle grip of clenched muscles. “I love the way you fill me,” she murmured.
He reached both hands to cup her breasts and fondle her nipples, and savoured the responding squeeze on his cock. “I don’t want to hurry this,” she said. “Is that okay with you?”
“Perfect.” He moved his hands from her breasts to her thighs, moving his palms down to her knees and then back up again so that his thumbs came to rest on either side of her outer labia. He squeezed gently. She bent down slowly, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and then swayed her upper body from side to side so that her nipples brushed against his torso. Then she stopped, and lowered questing lips to his mouth. “Hold me, lover,” she murmured. “Just hold me close and keep as still as you can.”
For a few moments she remained motionless on top of him, then she began a slow flexing of her spine that produced a slow, short backward and forward rocking movement of her hips, rhythmically pressing her clit against his pubic bone and pushing the head of his cock deep inside her against her cervix. At the same time he felt her vaginal walls gently squeezing and releasing his cock in synchrony with the movement of her hips. He realized then that she had also synchronized her breathing with the squeezing and rocking. Every slow forward thrust was accompanied by a long moaning exhalation, as if her entire being was focused on the slow rhythmic pulse of the muscles squeezing his shaft. He marvelled at her co-ordination, the physical harmony she had achieved within herself.
Then he became aware that unconsciously he had attuned his own breathing to her slow rhythm, and that, in the same rhythm, waves of pleasure were beginning to flow within him. It was as if they had both attained a profound harmony with the same primal pulse. Her moaning exhalations were gradually becoming louder, and his own were matching hers; the rhythmical squeezing on his cock was becoming stronger, the slow waves of pleasure reaching more deeply within him and gaining in strength, tension building and a yearning for release growing.
Then at last she suddenly exploded, rearing up with a loud, low-pitched rasping roar that seemed to come from deep inside the core of her being, muscles convulsing, the squeezing on his cock suddenly becoming stronger and more rapid. As if triggered by her explosive climax, his own orgasm detonated searingly, wracking him from head to foot and expelling jet after jet of semen deep into her. She screamed as the pulsing fluid hit home and flooded her, and finally collapsed on top of him, her whole body twitching and thrashing with violent post-orgasmic tremors, as was his.
Presently they lay side by side, holding hands, wordless, still breathless – as if, he thought, they were in some kind of trance state, waiting for reunion with their ordinary selves.
“Was that as good for you as it seemed?” he heard her ask at last.
He heard himself struggling vaguely for words: “Good? God, it was… fantastic… incredible… out of this fucking world… oh, words just seem inadequate somehow…”
She squeezed his hand. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d say something like that. It’s beyond words, I think. Sometimes it feels like a kind of out-of-body experience. Almost like dying. Did you know that in Elizabethan English ‘to die’ was a metaphor for having an orgasm?”
“No, but there’s the French la petite mort, isn’t there?”
“Yes, the little death – that’s right.”
“Where did you learn to fuck like that?”
“In India. I was a bit younger than you at the time. Went there for a year after I graduated, just bumming around. Met this sex guru and got a bit hooked. I suppose you could say I was part of his harem for a while. He was a bit of a charlatan in some ways, but my god he knew how to give a woman the fuck of her life. He taught me to fuck the way we just did. It’s a sort of sexual yoga that isn’t in the Kama Sutra. It’s all about focusing sexual energy – the way you focus the light of the sun through a magnifying glass. You responded perfectly. Not every man does.”
“Focussed fucking… Yeah, I’d love to do it again.”
Her hand wandered to his limp cock and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “We will, I promise. But not today. We’d bankrupt our energy banks.”
After a pause she went on: “That’s one kind of sex I can’t have with a woman. It needs a partner with a cock that can feel and respond like you did. I’ve done it with a trannie, though.”
“A what?”
“Transsexual. Shemale. I have a trannie friend, Maggie. She has a fabulous cock that fills me right up the way yours does. And she has marvellous tits, so I get the best of both worlds with her. If you think of a scale of bi-ness I suppose I’m quite a way towards the lesbian end of it, but there are some things that a woman with a strapon can’t give me and that I only get from a cock. In particular the way a man gets more excited as he gets close to orgasm, and the shuddering and that liquid explosion when he cums and floods me inside. With Maggie I get all of that – and her tits as a bonus.”
They lay in silence for a while. Then Sarah sat up, stretched, and said: “I’ve got a suggestion.”
“Well, like I said, I’ve no plans for today.”
“Great. Now, the only example of my work that you’ve seen is on paper, isn’t it?”
“That’s right – the park plan.”
“Well, if you like, we could go for a drive in the country, to a winery I know where we could have lunch and a drink and you could see something I designed, all in one go. How do you fancy that?”
Having showered and dressed, they were soon in Sarah’s Mercedes SLK, bowling along the Main North Road out of Christchurch, the car roof lowered, the sun on their skin, the wind in their hair, and Sarah’s straw hat tied firmly on her head. He leaned back contentedly, revelling in the feel of the upholstery. Ah, this is the life, he thought, out on a day like this, in a fantastic car, with an even more fantastic woman…
She explained that the winery they were headed towards was owned by clients of hers who had become friends. Sarah’s contribution to the establishment had been to design the ornamental garden that formed an open-air extension to the winery restaurant, and to supervise its creation.
The owners, Philip and Margot McLeod, were waiting to greet them when they arrived, and both hugged Sarah warmly. Margot was short and big-bosomed with salt-and pepper blonde hair tied in a ponytail; Greg guessed she would be nearer sixty than fifty, but she was still attractive. Philip looked nearer seventy, but still physically vigorous, with a tanned complexion, a luxuriant shock of white hair, bushy white eyebrows and penetrating blue eyes. He led Greg away to show him the winemaking plant while Margot disappeared with Sarah in the direction of the garden, where she wanted to discuss ideas for replanting and other modifications.
It wasn’t Greg’s first winery tour, but the McLeods’ production plant was one of the latest, with state-of-the-art equipment incorporating some of the newest methods and techniques, and Philip’s animated explanation – enriched by sample glasses of wine – added fresh interest. So too did his description of how he and his family had divided up the work of running the business between them, with Margot and their oldest daughter Vivienne taking care of all the horticultural and viticultural aspects, their middle daughter Julie being the wine-master with Philip as her assistant, while their youngest daughter Flora was in charge of marketing, packaging and dispatch. Their son Jamie was the chef, and his wife Claudia managed the restaurant and the accounts. They enjoyed a still small but growing volume of business in group visits, and Margot doubled as the group hostess – a role Greg was sure she would excel in, with her warm smile and welcoming manner.
Sarah and Margot were sipping wine at a pergola-shaded table in the garden when Philip and Greg rejoined them. Sarah handed him the menu card she had been studying. “I recommend the ostrich steak,” she said. “It’s a real speciality here. They get it from an ostrich farm on the Old West Road. The meat’s very healthy – low fat and lots of iron. And we can have McLeod Pinot Noir with it.”
“Sounds good,” Greg said. “I’ve never eaten ostrich, so that’s another first today!”
Sarah winked and blew him a surreptitious kiss.
“What other firsts have you had today, Greg?” Margot asked mischievously.
Greg felt himself blush, “Riding in a Mercedes SLK for one,” he said.
“That’s enough interrogation,” Sarah intervened in mock-protest. “We’re hungry! Make my steak medium-rare, please.”
“Same for me, please,” Greg added.
The meal was delicious: steaks that melted in the mouth, accompanied by vegetables cooked very lightly so as to retain their fresh flavour. For dessert Sarah had tiramisu, while Greg enjoyed blackboy peaches with hokey-pokey ice cream drizzled with Cointreau. The accompanying McLeod wines – they had a sauvignon blanc with their dessert – were heaven to the palate, and the coffee that followed was sheer perfection.
“On the house,” Margot insisted when Greg produced his wallet. He tried to insist back at her, but she waxed even more insistent. “You’re a friend of Sarah’s, and we owe her a lot,” she said conclusively.
Diners were seated at more than half the tables in the garden when Sarah led him off on a tour of inspection. Greg was deeply impressed by the way Sarah’s design had created a feeling of relaxed formality appropriate to an environment for fine dining, but without excessive ornateness.
“I can see what Margot meant about owing you a lot,” he said at last. “This is a beautiful place.”
“Thank-you, kind sir.” Sarah grinned and did a mock-curtsey. Then she looked around quickly. They were alone, at the furthest end of the garden, next to a shaded bower, and she pulled him into it. “Now fuck me, please.” Somehow her pure British accent and the “please” made the words all the more arousing. “No-one can see us here. Now, quickly darling. I need it. I need you inside me again. Right now. Please. Hurry. Fuck me, dammit!” She pulled up her skirt and he saw that she had nothing on underneath.
It was a quick, urgent and intense coupling, quiet but with a raw animality that left them deliciously sated. “That,” she murmured at length between kisses, “is what I call a super dessert…”
They wandered back to the main building, took their leave of Philip and Margot, and set off back to the city. It was still light when they reached Greg’s apartment block. He invited her in, but she shook her head.
“I’ve some things to do, sweetheart, and besides, I’d like that fantastic fuck in the garden to be the freshest sexual memory I take home with me. Thank you for a wonderful day. It’s been lovely spending it with you.”
“I feel the same, Sarah.” Greg said. “I hope we’ll have more times together.”
“We will, darling, I know we will.” She unfastened her seat belt, leaned over and gave him a long, quietly intense kiss on the mouth. “Greg, I wanted to have you on my own the moment I saw you yesterday,” she went on. “I am mostly lesbian, but there have been and are some men in my life who are very special to me. As soon as I saw you, I had a feeling that you might become of them. My instincts are rarely wrong about things like that, and I know now that they weren’t wrong this time either.”
She kissed him again one last time, then refastened her seat belt and started the car. He got out and stood watching her drive away. The roof of the car was still down, and the last thing he saw of her was a hand raised to adjust the angle of her straw hat and then give a farewell backward wave.
